


Floral Tattoos

by WatsWitDaMonkey



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Flowers, Fluff, Languages, M/M, Magic, Tattoo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:36:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2638313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WatsWitDaMonkey/pseuds/WatsWitDaMonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco has an old family tradition, tied to flowers. Jean is a little punk tattooist. Based on the prompt from tumblr, "imagine your otp, working next door to each other as a florist and a tattooist," or something like that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floral Tattoos

Floral Tattoos  
One: Meeting  
((this is the first chapter so I'm going to do a welcoming authors note but after that I don't plan on having these.  
Hi, I'm excited for you to be here. I do hope you enjoy this – I'm having a lot of fun writing it 9u9 I have a general outline for the chapters and an indefinite end in mind, but like most times I plan on just having everything come to me as it comes. I do hope that you stick around, it might take a while though… I want to upload a chapter a week at least.  
This is all my plan, and I usually don't stick to my plan because I kind of go to a very difficult school where it isn't uncommon for your homework to consist of 2 projects and 6 thirty minute minimum homework assignments. So bear with me please.  
Anyway, thanks for being here – enjoy the show  
~DaMonkey))

Summary: The two homos meet and talk about music

 

"These aren't zinnias," the man insisted.

"I assure you sir, they are," the owner of Botany, 26 year old Marco Bodt assured.

"My sister _grows_ zinnias; I _know_ what they look like!" He whined.

"Sir, shall I Google it?" Marco smiled sweetly, wanting to murder the man.

"Do it! Then you'll see I'm right!" He crossed his arms.

Marco nodded, placed his Samsung on the counter so that the man could watch him hit enter on the google images search for zinnias. Immediately popped up over 3,000 results for flowers exactly like the ones in the pot sitting on the counter that the man insisted were _not_ zinnias. Marco knew his goddamn flowers – he had been working under his grandmother and then mother since he was twelve years old.

"As you can see, sir, these are in fact zinnias," Marco explained calmly.

The little bitch gave Marco the finger and walked out of the store.

The music in the flower shop did not match his mood in any way. The Postal Service, soft electronic music, was not at all what he needed. On the computer on the counter, he pulled up Spotify, leaving the overhead music playing from the CD player. The dark skinned young adult cracked his knuckles before putting his headphones on and plugging them into Falling in Reverse. He turned the volume up as high as he could take it before sitting back down and putting his head on the glass counter.

Now, he was well aware of the fact that he should not have had headphones in – someone could come in at any time looking to buy flowers. However, Marco did not currently give a single shit.

That is, until someone tapped his shoulder.

He stood bolt upright, flinging his massive headphones off. They landed on the chair he had been sitting in; the music was muffled but still very loud and could be heard from across the counter. Marco blushed heavily, quickly clicking the pause button on Spotify.

"Falling in Reverse?" The man across the counter asked, raising a pierced eyebrow.

The Florist could feel his ears burning; his head was light and kind of hurt. Luckily his mocha coffee colored skin hid his blush. "Yeah," he replied. The man with the pierced eyebrow (and now that Marco was actually looking at him, he had black snake bites in his lower lip) just smiled.

Marco coughed, his gay little heart fluttering away with that smile. "D-Do you- Um, welcome to Botany. What can I do for you?"

"My tattoo shop is going to be opening up next door next week. Just wanted to say hello to the neighbors," the tattooist talked slowly as though he couldn't care less about how much of someone's time he was taking up.

Marco was melting in that voice. The deep timbre of it, the strange accent that Marco couldn't quite place. He was shorter than the florist, but not by much. His hair was in two sections, a shaggy almost white crop on top and a close shave, dark undercut. He was wearing an oversized black zipper hoodie, and red and black striped jeans.

The music above changed to a Spanish language song called Amor Luz and Marco felt himself heating up once again. He quickly dropped down below the counter, telling the tattooist to hold up a second. Marco hit the next button on the CD but, Charming Man by the Smiths wasn't any better. He changed it once again and We Looked like Giants by Death Cab for Cutie came on the speakers. Marco figured that was fine and stood back up.

"Um, a tattoo shop? Juxtaposed with a florist? That'll be a funny combination!" Marco rambled, "Just imagine some of the people you and I are going to get in our stores!" He let out a short laugh, "Um, I'm Marco by the way. Marco Bodt, I own this store."

The tattooist's pierced eyebrow shot up again (Marco figured it was a trained thing), "You own this place?"

"It was my grandmother's, then my mother's, and now mine," the freckled florist explained.

"Ah," the man with two toned hair looked around the shop at the different flowers in the store. His eyes fell back onto Marco and let out a smirk, "My name's Jean Kirschstein."

Marco's eyebrows rose for a moment, "How do you even spell that?"

"T-H-A-T," Jean replied quickly.

The florist laughed. "Screw you I meant your name."

The tattooist smiled the briefest of things and spelled out his name.

When he was done, Marco tipped his head, "Well if that isn't a foreign name, I don't know what is."

"I think the accent helps, hah?" Jean replied to which Marco let out a small smile. "French and German," he informed, leaning on the counter.

Marco nodded, "My mom's family is from Peru but my dad's family is from here, 'Murica."

Close to Me by The Cure came on the CD and Marco silently kicked himself. What was today? Romantic music day?!

But Jean's eyes lit up, "I love this song."

"Oh, the Cure?" Marco jumped at the opportunity to talk about music.

He nodded, "I'm used to listening to French or German music, but when we came to America one of the first things I got into was The Cure."

"Neat!" Marco replied. "What else do you like?"

"Like I said, mostly French and German music that you wouldn't know," he shrugged. "You?"

"I like a lot of different kinds of music, really. Ranging from, well, what you heard coming from my headphones after I had to deal with a customer insisting that he knew more about flowers because his sister grew plants, to jazz, classical, indie, oh- Hold on. Please stop me," Marco put a hand over his face.

"Hipster," Jean drawled.

Marco reached over the counter and grabbed the hood on Jean's jacket, pulling it over his head and face. "I am not," he couldn't stop smiling.

Jean was glad to have the hood over his face because he couldn't stop smiling either.

He pulled the hood back down and let it settle behind his head, "So are you open all year?"

"Yep," Marco replied.

"How? Don't the flowers like, die?"

"Magic."

Jean laughed at how seriously the freckled angel was staring at him. "Okay, I can accept that."

 


End file.
